I’d spent hours—make that years—mulling over my character flaws. First off, my attention span was scattered at best; I continually zigged and zagged through endless lists of ideas, some of them implemented, many of them not. I found it difficult to be in social situations for too long.12 But the trait I never seemed to be able to improve upon was how difficult it was for me to let people see the “real” Josh. I expended an enormous amount of effort hiding behind screen names, bumper stickers, and secret identities with no luck. I was Josh Swensen,13 end of story. I still cringe when I think about hiding the real me from Beth on my Web site. Whenever we’re on the cusp of an argument, Beth continues to remind me of that particular transgression. 14
As I biked down Route 2, I gave myself a reluctant pep talk. Face this guy like a man. Find out what he’s up to. Let him see you’re not afraid.
But I was afraid. I’d been run over by political mobsters, framed as an embezzler, even attended my own funeral—all I wanted for the next few months was to sit in my hole and do nothing. The last thing I needed was a washed-up celebrity stalker stalking a washed-up celebrity like me.
I locked my bike in the parking lot and headed down the hill to the pond. After a few moments I spotted Gus wading along the shoreline. I had to give the guy credit—the water was sixty degrees, tops. Hoping the cool water would bolster my efforts, I pulled my jacket and shirt over my head, kicked off my sneakers, and waded in. The water’s temperature was jolting, but its clarity was even more of a shock. I could see my jeans, my feet, and several trout swimming by.15 As I closed the space between the mysterious stranger and me, I found myself inexplicably grinning. This was the most alive I’d felt in months.
“Awakens the mind, doesn’t it?”
I’d been careful not to let Gus see me enter the pond, and I’d made as little noise as possible. It was as if the guy had eyes in the back of his head.
“In the winter, I walk on the water instead of in it.” The acoustics of the pond carried his chuckle back toward me. “Walk on water, I like that.”
I jogged toward him until I finally caught up. We faced off like two busts in an aquatic art installation: Two Heads in Historic Pond Discussing Nothing Historic. I imagined a miniature cartoon version of Beth hovering over my shoulder whispering encouragement in my ear. Don’t let him off the hook. Find out what the hell he wants. Tell him to leave you alone or else.16
“Who are you?” I asked. “And how’d you get my name and address?”
Gus’s expression showed not only mischief but kindness. “Is that what scared you off the other day? You were meant to find that paper in my pocket. There are no accidents—you should know that by now.”
I ignored the imaginary Beth on my shoulder; this guy was intriguing. As we treaded in silence, I spotted the two giant koi that lived in the pond.17
“Buddhists often release fish as part of their hojo-e ceremony,” Gus said. “They’re very big on life being liberated.”
“Who isn’t?”
“We need to liberate your mind. That’s why you’ll meet me here every day, rain or shine. We’ll discuss the rules of life, and you’ll perform the tasks necessary to achieve enlightenment.”
“Enlightenment? I can barely figure out how to get through the day.”
“Exactly. That’s why you need a guru.”
“A guru?”
“Call it what you want—guru, teacher, mentor. No one makes spiritual progress without one.”
“I was just thinking about having a mentor the other day.”
“Of course you were.”
He dove into the pond and came up holding a small trout. I’d spent enough time by the water to know how nearly impossible it was to catch a fish with your bare hands. He closed his eyes and held the fish for a moment before throwing it back in. “Enough questions for one day. We have more important things to do—namely, to walk.”
Every time I said the word but Gus held his finger to his lips to silence me. I finally gave up and treaded toward the far end of the pond. Truth be told, I was tired of being stuck, tired of wallowing in my own screwed-up-ness. Even if he was a bona fide wack job, what did I have to lose?18 By the time I reached my clothes, I decided I wanted to study with Gus. I envisioned the cartoon mini Beth, hands on hips, shaking her head in disbelief.
After spending the morning with Gus, I felt like I’d known him for years. No, I felt he knew me. Better than Janine, Peter, or even Beth. Better than every other person in my life except one.
I hadn’t been to Bloomingdale’s since I’d returned to Massachusetts and could feel the anxiety buzzing through my organs like electricity.19 Since I was here last, they moved the store to the mall across the street. I wandered around the new location until I found Marlene, my mother’s favorite salesperson, holding court behind the center counter.
“Joshie! Come over here and give me a kiss—come!” She gestured furiously for a hug, and I obliged.20 “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
I filled her in on my cross-country trip, then told her the last time I was here, my mother didn’t speak to me.
“She’s been here plenty of times since—even I’ve heard her.” Marlene sat me down on the stool and pretended to show me an anti-aging serum.
I knew Marlene hadn’t conversed with my mother since her death, but I appreciated the vote of support. Marlene had aged, but her penciled-in eyebrows, bowl haircut, and giant glasses still made her seem like the crazy aunt I’d always wished I’d had.
Marlene ducked behind the counter to make a quick phone call. I didn’t want to get her in trouble, so I pretended to examine the products in front of me. As I scanned the list of ingredients, I realized I was stalling, not to protect Marlene but myself. What if Mom was truly gone? The permanence of life without our “conversations” reverberated inside me again. Mom was the most alive person I’d ever known21 but her zest for life made her death that much more painful. She’d packed a lifetime’s worth of laughing, dancing, hiccuping, swimming, cooking, and making up stories into her short time on earth. Even standing in front of thousands of screaming supporters on the campaign trail paled in comparison to how much fun it was to carve a pumpkin or sit on a park bench with her.22 Since her death, my biggest struggle had been to force myself to view the world in its true vibrant colors, not the monochromatic version it appeared to be when I woke up each morning and realized she was still gone.
Marlene cruised by with a customer and whispered, “Joshie, she’s here today. I know she is!”
I got off the stool and shuffled toward the escalator. “Mom? Are you listening? Can you hear me? I need to talk to you.”
I stood in the aisle and listened. Nothing.
A woman walked by entering text into her BlackBerry. Another stopped at the counter beside me and picked up several lipsticks before heading to the shoe department.
Somebody say something—anything!
A man with a blue suit and matching cell phone walked toward me. The Bloomingdale’s makeup department was the only place I was actually glad to see a cell phone; it meant someone would be bringing my mother’s words to me. But this customer was listening, not talking. No use to me at all.
“Mom, I’ve found someone who wants to be my spiritual teacher. Is he a crackpot or authentic? I need you to talk to me—come on.”
Two high school girls in plaid uniforms bounced from display to display ogling the new autumn shades.
“I think he’s for real,” the first girl said.
The other girl rummaged through various testers. “I’m not so sure.”
“You met him for a reason,” the first girl said. “I say go for it.”
“Yes!” I pumped my fist into the air, scaring the girls to the next counter. The reception was so good, I half expected my mother to glide down the escalator in full heavenly splendor. Instead, a harried woman in expensive sweats tugged her toddler off the moving stairs with such force the little girl burst into tears and drop
ped her aardvark plush.
I crouched down and returned the toy with a whisper. “Trust me, when she’s gone, you’ll even miss days like this.”
The woman thanked me for the doll and jostled her daughter toward the exit.
“Did you hear your mom?” Marlene asked.
“Loud and clear,” I answered.
“See?” She handed me a small gift bag of samples and told me to give them to Beth.
I stood in the middle of the department one more time. Was it greedy to ask for one more encounter with my mother?
A blond woman with three inches of black roots passed by talking on her cell. “Oh, once isn’t enough? You know what you need to do, now do it!”
So, so, so my mom.
I avoided Beth’s phone calls and biked to Walden the next day. It took two walks around the pond before I found Gus. He was at the site of Thoreau’s cabin, sitting atop the cairn.23
“I’m not sure you should be sitting up there,” I said. “It’s kind of sacred, don’t you think?”
Gus stood up and beat his chest like King Kong. “I think should is the first word we should ax from your vocabulary.”
I didn’t tell him he’d just used the word himself.
“So, you decided to enlist,” Gus said.
“You make it sound like the army.”
“Spiritual boot camp—you’re exactly right.”
“Muldarian … what kind of name is that?”
“Armenian.” He jumped off the makeshift memorial with unexpected grace for a man his size. “Let’s go meet the others.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Others? I thought you were the guru and I was the student.”
“You think you’re important enough to warrant one-on-one attention?”
“It’s not that,” I said. “I just thought—”
“Another bad habit we should break you out of.”
This time I couldn’t help myself. “You said should again.”
He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me toward him in a bear hug. “Now you’re paying attention.”
We walked toward the small beach at the south end of the pond. He finally released me from his grip when the path became too narrow and we were forced to walk single file.24 Although it was October, several people sunned themselves on shore. A few people my age sat on the stone wall dangling their legs in the water. Both women had hair down to their waists and wore jeans and hoodies. The three guys all had a few days of chin stubble that was meant to look casual but actually took days to get just right.25 Their identical dress shot a warning directly to my gut.
“This is Josh,” Gus told them. “He’ll be joining our group.”
“Hi, Josh,” they said in unison.
I suddenly wondered if Gus was recruiting for Alcoholics Anonymous. I gave a quick wave then looked down to my feet. Was I making a giant mistake?
The others paid rapt attention as Gus spoke about the importance of commitment to a spiritual path. I tried to stay focused but felt distracted by the bait and switch. If Gus was running a camp for Spiritual Wanderers, why didn’t he say so?
When Gus discussed the group’s daily routine, the five other “students” raced for their notebooks. I rummaged through my pack but found only a pen. I took notes on the palm of my hand until one of the girls in the group handed me some paper. The whole thing was beginning to feel like junior high—in a word, humiliating. I figured if I made it till noon, I could fabricate some excuse and hightail it back home.26
Gus sensed my lack of enthusiasm. “Josh obviously has more important things to do. Why don’t you share your thoughts with the rest of us?”
Junior high, nothing—make that fourth grade. I decided to cut short my losses. “No offense, but this isn’t for me. I misunderstood your program. I’m sorry.”
Gus didn’t look a bit annoyed as he continued to wade through the pond. “You thought you were someone special who deserved a teacher all to himself.”
“It’s not that.”
“You think you’re better than these other pilgrims, more evolved.”
“No, of course not.”
“We’ve got another group of disciples coming today. Kids like you from all over the country looking for meaning in their lives.” Gus opened his arms wide to encircle the panorama of the pond. “I’ll tell you what I think. You’re the most lost soul here. I think you came out of the gate quickly with lots of purpose, then floundered. An eighteen-year-old burnout, that’s what you are. You used to have ideas on how to change the world, how to save the planet, but now you can’t figure out how to save yourself.”
It’s as if he was living in my frontal lobe. Gus went on for several minutes—about how I had a lot to learn from these other “disciples,” how my morbid self-absorption would only lead to more despair. How I needed to wake up to the world around me. Parts of his rant actually reminded me of some of my own. Still, the regimen he laid out seemed like a lot of—what’s the word?—oh, yeah, work.
I returned the paper to the girl next to me and got up to leave. I wished them all luck, Gus included.
“You make your own luck,” Gus said.
“I’d love to stay and bandy around more clichés, but I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t get carpal tunnel from using that remote!” Gus waved goodbye with no trace of animosity.
As I walked up the hill to the parking lot, a group of kids my age was heading to the pond. They wore the same jeans and hooded sweatshirts as the students back at the beach. As I passed through the group, I studied their faces. It was only a fleeting glance, but I had to admit they seemed happy and serene.
It wasn’t the girl in the back that got my attention; it was the dog trotting along beside her. The collie suddenly ran toward me and jumped up, placing his front paws on my chest. The dog’s tail wagged furiously as he licked my face.
The girl stood beside us laughing. “Looks like Brady missed you.”
I gently let the collie down and grabbed Janine.
Where had she been living? What was she doing? I fired questions at Janine, but she insisted on attending Gus’s lecture. I didn’t want Gus to think I’d changed my mind about his program because an old girlfriend showed up, so I biked around Concord for the rest of the morning and met Janine back at Walden for lunch. She looked amazing. Her waist-length hair was a hundred-and-eighty-degree change from Beth’s cropped do. It took a while to get used to Janine in these clothes; her zany sense of style was one of the things I’d always loved about her. She smelled like oranges, and her skin was tan and smooth. I asked if she’d continued her habit of silent Mondays 27 and if she still went to concerts all the time.28 After the small talk, I told her how I’d traveled across the country to find her. Turns out she’d been in L.A. studying with Gus.
“I went to Gus’s first lecture on a lark. Guaranteed enlightenment—I mean, come on.” Janine fed a bite of her hummus wrap to Brady. “But I started noticing these amazing changes in my life. I’ve been following him ever since.”
I asked her what kind of changes.
“I feel as if my life has a purpose now, you know what I mean?”
“Unfortunately not. The word purpose has jettisoned itself from my internal dictionary.”
“You of all people,” she said. “That’s a shame.”
Somehow admitting I’d lost a grip on something so important seemed a huge concession to make, even to Janine. Truth was, I found her new assuredness unnerving. It sounded petty, but of the two of us, I’d always been the one with a clear game plan and she more or less tagged along. I can’t say I appreciated our psychic switcheroo.
“Who are all these ‘students’? Are they runaways?”
“Of course not!” she laughed. “A lot of them are taking time off after high school. Some study with Gus part time. It’s totally voluntary—he’s legit.”
“I guess it can’t do any harm to listen in.”
She put her hand on mine with what seemed like platonic
support. “It’s always a good idea to follow your heart.”
Great—more clichés. But I told her I had followed my heart, six thousand miles’ worth. “It’s not your fault—no one had a gun to my head to find you. But between that and losing the election, the meaninglessness crept in, pulled up a chair, and made itself at home.”
“I’m sure you’ll turn it around. I have complete faith in you.”
Her happiness had to be fake. I decided to test her newfound tranquility. “Beth’s doing great at Brown. Political Science, Drama Club. I see her all the time.”
Janine seemed ecstatic. “I’m so happy for her.”
“She looks stunning. Short hair, fit. Really hot.”
“She was always so beautiful.”
This was not working out as I’d expected.
“Maybe I will sign up to study with Gus. Maybe Beth and I both will.”
Janine beamed. “That sounds like a terrific idea.”
I couldn’t even look at her; my small-mindedness was embarrassing even to me. I’d spent lots of time with Janine when we lived in Boulder, and she’d never had this quiet composure. I looked back down the hill to Gus and his students. The “guru” was skimming stones into the pond with such ease, I half expected him to retrieve the rocks by walking on water, even with the pond not frozen. He was right about one thing: I may have dashed out of the purpose gate at an early age, but the rest of the world wasn’t waiting for me to catch up. The few months I’d spent wallowing around at home suddenly seemed like chains I needed to break free of.
I’ve never been the club-joining type,29 but maybe it was time to start.
“Sounds like a cult,” Peter said. “And a guru named Gus?30 Please!”
Beth agreed. “Gurus aren’t supposed to be stalkers. You don’t even know who this guy is. He could be some con artist trying to scam you out of your life savings.”
“I have fewer than seventy-five possessions. I hardly think anyone’s going to get rich off me.”
Larry and the Meaning of Life Page 2